white scales

Metalwork - Omake #4

A/N: …yeah. I’ve got nothin’ here. This one’s just…down. Hope you’re having a good day, yeha?

Fandom: Fairy Tail
Pairing: NaLu
Rating: T - adult themes, PTSD from sexual assault

Summary: Still recovering from a bad relationship, Lucy struggles with returning a white scaled scarf to its owner—the pink-haired man always running around her apartment complex. A man who seems like he might be just what she needs to heal. Modern AU. NaLu. TwoShot.

Part(s): Part 1 | Part 2 | Omake | Omake #2 | Omake #3 | Omake #4


                           a green or green-blue substance that appears 
                     on the metal copper as a result of a reaction to the air 

She didn’t know how to make it stop.

The fan in the bathroom whirred. The fucking antique clock swung back and forth tick, tick, ticking away. The air throughout the house whistled and the lights buzzed ever so softly, but enough to make her want to rip her hair out.

And her heart ached. The backs of her eyes pricked.

She didn’t know how to make it stop.

And even when she turned off the fan, covered the clock, and turned out the lights…

Her blood pumped and rushed through her ears and it was too loud.

Everything was too loud.

Her heart hurt.

She wanted…

She didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t know how to make it stop. She didn’t know why it started…an hour ago she was just fine.

But she was alone.

So, so alone.

She willed the tears to fall, but they wouldn’t come. Full of ache, yet empty at the same time.

She wanted her mom.

She wanted to be small, when she didn’t know what pain was. When her mother was everything to her, and she could curl up on her lap and be okay. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be an adult. She didn’t…

She wished she could call her mom, because her father was no help. He didn’t understand.

He wasn’t a bad person. Not really. But he didn’t understand her. He didn’t much care about her on a level that would help.

If he ever did hear that she felt the way she did, he came back with how he’d felt that way at her age, or some other bullshit like that. This wasn’t just some phase that would pass. She’d dealt with this disconnect before everything that had happened.

‘Man, your relationship with him really did a number on you, huh?’

He had no idea.

She’d made sure of that.

He didn’t need to know. He wouldn’t get it anyway. She’d tried to give him a chance time and time again but…

She shook her head.

She didn’t want to be here.

She couldn’t breathe.

Dammit. She was stronger than this. She knew she was. She wasn’t this…this coward who got so bothered by something that she freaked the fuck out about it. She didn’t…she was okay being alone.

So why couldn’t she?

She grabbed the key to her apartment and locked the door behind her. The asphalt was cold beneath her feet, wind crept beneath the folds of her shirt. This kind of dark felt safe. Her apartment didn’t. It creaked.

She stood outside Natsu’s door. His light was off. It was late. Should she even knock?

She gripped her phone in her hand.

You up?

His door opened within seconds.

She blinked.

“Hi,” he whispered, breathing a little laboured. Half his hair smashed to the side of his head and his shirt was wrinkled.

She reached up and ran her fingers through his bedhead to smooth it out a bit.

“I woke you up,” she said softly.

He shook his head. “I was just reading.”

She let her hand drop and then crossed her arms. Her voice refused to cooperate with her.

Wordlessly, he held the door open, and she ducked under his arm inside. She wiped her feet on the mat, though there was nothing really on them, and slowly made her way to his bedroom.

She climbed under his comforter and buried her face in his pillow. It smelled like him. She didn’t know how to describe it…but it never failed to ease her anxiety.

And once it eased, the tears fell.

She felt the bed dip beside her and arms wrap around her waist. Warmth seeped into her back, thighs, and calves as Natsu secured himself around her.

He didn’t say anything. She didn’t say anything.

He found her arm and weaved his fingers through hers.

He squeezed.

She cried.

He held her tighter.

She didn’t want it to be dark. She wanted it to be a day where she could just…not have to do anything or talk to anyone. Just a day where she didn’t have to feel how she was feeling or have to get out of bed and function.

“Did…did something happen, or…?”

She shook her head. “No. Not about that.”

She felt him nod. “Just one of those days then?”

She swallowed and squeezed his hand again. “Yeah.” Her voice cracked.

“What can I do?” he asked.

She shook her head again. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

He gave her body a squeeze and pulled her into him briefly before letting her go. “Is this okay?”

She nodded.

“Let me know if I can do anything?”


His breathing was shallow. Soft. It gave her ears something to focus on other than the blood rushing in her body and the little creaks in the room.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He just ran a thumb over hers.